Saturday, April 28, 2012

A documentation of war crime atrocities conducted by Japanese
Unit 731 during the Second World War. A harrowing brew of archival footage, re-enactments
and interviews with Anatoly Protasov, who was a former doctor/ military
translator at the trials of the U731 doctors in Khabarovsk, USSR at the end of
WWII.

Phew, prepare yourself to be mangled by the steamroller of
malevolence, because Philosophy of a Knife is the Ben Hur of extreme cinema! An epic piece of work, that drains its
audience with almost four and a half hours of grotesque but captivating study
of the legendary Unit 731.

Crafted through interviews, archive footage and reconstructions,
Andrey Iskanov’s joyride of atrocities beats the shit out of any History Chanel
documentary ever. This is the ultimate history of Unit 731, the Japanese
research facility that conducted chemical and biological experiments on
prisoners of war, from the early days, to their exposure and trial after the
war. I can’t argue the accuracy of the Protasov interviews, but that old man
has an aura of authenticity which definitely set’s up a level of realism which
totally sells me the coming scenes of archival footage the often lead up to the
brutalities to be re-enacted. What makes this such an overwhelming and powerful
trip is the way Iskanov brings his Art-house-surrealistic touch to the realm of
tortures and death. Even in the midst of the most grotesque of moments, there’s
an aesthetic that propels the onscreen monstrosities deeper into the mind.
Rapid edits, loud music, re-enactments cut against real footage and archival
material creates juxtaposition from hell, and it becomes a test of endurance.

There’s a decent enough idea behind the movie, as Iskanov
claims in his introduction that he wanted to show the events from the Japanese
side and the morale dilemma that came with working there. This is obvious through
the subplots found in each part of the two part movie, concerning a young nurse
[Yukari Fujimoto] and her letters to those at home – who’s voice is performed
by Manoush, German actress/singer/writer who also holds an important part
in Marc Rohnstock’sNecronos: The Tower of Doom 2010 – and in the second part where
a young officer [Tetusro Sakagami] finds himself conflicted between his
emotions for a Russian female prisoner [Elena Poboatova] whist in the service
of the Emperor, torturing people for a superior purpose.

Nevertheless, at the end of the day, it’s the sleaze, the
gore, the violence of the special effects (or what is shown, I’ll never look at
cockroaches in the same way ever again) that one comes to this movie for. Sure
the history lesson is tantalizing, but it becomes a competition of comparison
to the Men Behind the Sun films from the 80-90's. Iskanov pulls it off with bravura, giving new
takes on classic scenes and bringing some even more disturbing stuff with him.
Fuck The Human Centipede, this is four hours plus of medical accuracy, and
let’s just say that the effects are gag-inducing.

The audioscape of this thing is amazing, there is no sound
effect left unused as Iskanov pushes his nightmarish images to a further level
with noises and industrial music that could compete with a Merzbow concert.

I guess the thing that attracts audiences the most with Philosophy
of a Knife and the Men Behind the Sun movie, is the basic fact that these are all real atrocities which where performed on real people. The Evil that mankind does holds a strong macabre fascination for us all in our daily struggle with the fact that we are all going to die one day. In the safety of our TV couch it’s
easy to gloat upon the carnage, but never forget that this is telling you a
real story, and the morale debate on doing wrong for a good cause is a
fascinating one. I often toy with the idea, what if Unit 371, or even the Nazi
WW2 human experiments had come up with a life-altering discovery? How would
this affect our otherwise polarized judgement on the matter?

Philosophy of a Knife get’s 6/6, and that’s for the approach to the subject matter and sheer enormity of this movie. Although there are some minor flaws, which in all
honesty would be like complaining about the tan marks on the nuns in eighties
nunsploitation flicks, or sock marks on nude inmates in WI.P films, the film is
still totally worth the full house. Damn, four hours plus of vile grimness,
interwoven with an important historic story. This is potent stuff. Just after
Iskanov had completed postproduction, and had shipped his cut/footage to US for
the DVD release, he was obtained by the FSB - that’s KGB to you and me mate!
His computer and materials where seized and he was continuously interrogated on
the source and extent of his research. After being held captive in a military
base prison cell for five days, Iskanov was released with little of his
materials or computers given back. I’d would have written it up as a genius
marketing gimmick if I didn’t know that, one of the ballsiest Swedish movie
distributors, have been trying to get this movie out for over a year now. More than one hard drive has been seized by officials on the way between
Iskanov and the distributor. Or the fact that the box of discs I once sent my
mate Alex in Russia, never arrived at his place either! One wonders what they
where afraid Iskanov may have found…?

I forbid you to call yourself a fan of
extreme cinema until you’ve sat through the full 249 minutes of Philosophy of a
Knife.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Sometimes the less you know of a movie before watching it,
the better it serves you. In this world of information overload, we’re more than
often already familiar with tone, theme, imagery, key shock moments and synopsis’s
way before we enter the theatre, or stick that disc in the machine… Luckily for
me, the brief research I did before watching The Incident was completely wrong,
which set me up for a ride completely unlike the one I was prepared for.

It’s the late eighties. A bunch of mates, Max [Kenny
Doughty], Ricky [Joseph Kennedy] and George [Rupert Evans], who all play in the
same struggling Seattle grunge band, work in the kitchen of Sands sanitarium. During
a heavy thunderstorm, there’s a power shortage leaving them, wardens and
patients in the dark. That’s when the inmates kick up a riot, break free and go
wild… and we all know what happens when the inmates take over the asylum…

The Incident may be an English language film and give the impression of being a generic American shocker, but it's not. It's more European than anything else, and I shit you not when I constantly say that French directors
are solidly on their way to taking over the cinematic world of the horror genre.
The list can go on for ever; Alexandre Aja, Pascal Laugier, Xavier Gens, David
Moreau & Xavier Palud, Alexandre Bustillo, Julien Maury and now one half of
music video duo Alex and Martin, Alexandre Courtès, takes the step over to
feature films.

I really, really, like movies that take some time to
establish the ordinary world, the people who live there, their traits, give
dimension to their characters and all that jazz which makes me invest in the movie.
The Incident does all this, and what surprised me is that the ordinary world is
already in its ordinary state pretty creepy and eerie place, thanks to that
remarkable location. There are no windows on the exterior shots of the asylum,
and none in the interior shots either. This creates a intimidating feeling of
claustrophobia, and it also inhibits us from making a mental map of the layout,
making it easier to get lost well inside the asylum.

I often talk of the transition into the unnatural or the
world where the ordinary is ruptured, and the way The Incident breaks through
is brilliant. When the bulletproof glass separating inmates from staff is
ripped out of it’s frame presenting the psychos with a free passage to the
“other side” of the border/glass, you know there’s going to be trouble. A point
of no return that makes an impression, and it does so through some very smart
moves, and well-written script and timing. Hiding in the safety of the kitchen
as the inmates hammer at the glass with rods, chairs and even a shelf, Max asks
George for some reassurance that the inmates “cant break that window right?”
Before George even has time to think about his reply the force of the inmates
pushes the glass out of it’s frame and they now access the whole sanitarium.
The actual border of “their side” and “our side” between patients and staff
acts as a clear set of rules by which the asylum is controlled. As soon as
rules are set in genre cinema we can break them, and the show can get on the
road.

But why don’t they just get up and get the hell out one may
ask. S. Craig Zahler’s script deals with that in two interesting ways, the
first being the obvious, the power is out. But convention tells us that power
shortages can always be overcome, back up generators, torches and lights or
even lack of logic that makes broken stuff suddenly work. Well here it’s
definitely off, there’s even a scene where head officer, J.B. [Dave Legeno]
explains to the cooks what’s happened and why they simply can’t fix it. Not
only the lights, but also the automated doors and the system that keep thing
tightly locked. Then there’s the second interesting thing that the script does
to the protagonist George… He’s been at the asylum since five in the morning,
he played a gig the night before, there’s been earlier dialogue about the fact
that they drink beers before and after shows, so with this in mind, on the day
of the power shortage, we know that George is hung-over (shown in the weird
imagery as he takes a shower that morning) he’s most likely suffering from
lack of sleep, which will have effects on endurance (sloppy when packing up
the delivery) his psychic state (snaps at Max during the serving of lunch) and physical
state (is overrun by inmates several times during the walk back to lockdown).
Weakening the protagonist is a move of genius, and that’s exactly what that
late gig, early morning, lack of sleep trick is all about.

Establishing the threat! There’s something about Welsh actor
Richard Brake’s stare that get’s under your skin. From his first scene and the
way Laurent Tangy’s camera lingers on his face, there’s something sinister and
unnerving in that stare, and this is used to perfection in The Incident. Slowly
the Harry character is introduced. At first it’s merely the way he stares as
George as he stands in line for his dinner. This escalates as he encourages
other inmates to “spit out the meds”, and when all hell breaks loose, we can
completely see why George choses Henry Green as his antagonist. The face-to-face
confrontation that their “struggle” finally culminates in is an uncomfortable
one as it doesn’t quiet play out as we are accustomed to. But it works, and it
creates a creepy emotional state that the movie plays with in its final act. It
sends shivers down my spine when genre breaks convention and goes elsewhere to
explore other areas. I find that The Incident several times shows me one thing, but offers several possible interpretations... stuff that makes you go back to movies.

Darkness and lack of light play a huge part of The
Incident. Together with the lack of orientation, the darkness adds to the
above-mentioned claustrophobia. It also helps build tension, as we never really
know who’s out there, behind us or even worse, right in front of us. The
Incident uses the murky lighting, the shady corners and the blackness of
adjacent corridors to have figures lurking in the dark. With the use of strange
noises, incoherent patient dialogue and mad laughter, the audience never know
what kind of attack, or who will pounce at them next, the tension builds and
anxiety sets in.

Have you noticed that most of these French genre pieces
clock in just below ninety minutes? Feel the pacing of the movies, and you will
realize that there’s never a slow moment. Compared to others, many of the
French flicks lack those awkward scenes that stop the flow of the movie. A lot, if not all of it, is due to editor extraordinaire
Baxter. Baxter has cut his way through the crap – used in the most respectful
way that is - on movies like Haute tension 2003, À l’intérieur 2007, Piranha
2010, Livide 2011 and Incident 2011. Hearing director’s talk about the way
Baxter works is inspirational, because they all say that Baxter cuts everything
he feel’s slows down the pace or is out of place. Baxter is ruthless, and brings a whole new
dimension to the films that these creative directors have written and shot. Baxter
is in more than one way the epitome of the old three film rule which goes: You
make three films, the one you write, the one you shoot, and the one you edit.
He makes some damned hard but effective cuts in those movies he’s helped shape,
and he truly shows the talent in Juxtaposition and effective editing. I’d
easily watch a movie for the Baxter credit alone, as I find myself holding this person higher and higher in
my book for each movie I see his craft perfecting on.

The version of The Incident I saw was an early screener,
lacking pre- and end credits, which made the choice of Alice Cooper’sOnly
Women Bleed on static black screen after the last scene a weird but interesting experience. There’s an awesome atmosphere, to The Incident, and there where
documented fainting’s at the premiere screening in Toronto! It has some simple
but efficient effects, there’s also some more advanced ones that deliver a
couple of really grim moments to satisfy the gorehounds as the survival horror
turns to violent sadism in the last act. I liked this one, and I’ll go back to
it again when I can see a real version, because I’m kind of certain that
there’s an alternative way to read the events in the movie. The Incident is a fierce pressure cooker of tension that will
have you biting your nails bloody! This one will get under your skin and have
you looking over your shoulder when you are in dark corridors for a long time
to come.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

How could the late Ulla Isaksson ever have know that the
script she based on a century old folksong, later directed by Ingmar Bergman as
Jungfrukällan (The Virgin Spring) 1960, would end up being a prime source for
exploitation films? Did she ever know? Did anyone ever inform her of this?

Wes Craven hit it off when he loosely based his Last House on the Left 1972 on
the Isaksson script, and the ball was set in motion. Movies that sometimes
where inspired by the plot, sometimes by the title such as Last House on Dead
End Street, 1977, La settima donna (Last House on the Beach) 1978, to some
extent Autostop rosso sangue (Hitch-Hike), 1977, and even Mario Bava’sReazione
a catena (Bay of Blood) was labled Last House on the Left, Part2 when it was
finally released in the USA pooped up all over the place. Most of the films drew inspiration from the Craven
movie and it’s spawn, and perhaps most famously Ruggero Deodato’sHouse at the
Edge of the Park 1980. But already in 1975, Aldo Lado and Renato Izzo wrote a
screenplay based on a story of Roberto Ifanascelli and Ettore Scanó
(responsible for several similar stories) came up with Last Stop on the Night
Train, also known as Night Train Murder.

Laura Stradi [Marina Berti] and cousin Margaret Hoffenbach
[Irene Miracle later to star in Dario Argento’sInferno 1980] are on their way
home for the holidays. The two girls take the train from Munich with Laura’s hometown
in Italy as the final destination. But fate has other plans for them, and they
never get there... On-board the train they encounter two brutish thugs; Blackie
[Flavio Bucci also seen in Argento’sSuspiria 1977] and Curly [Gianfranco De
Grassi] team up with the seedy blonde know only as “the lady” [Macha Mérli, best
known for her performance as the psychic Helga Ullman in Argento’sProfondo
Rosso (Deep Red) the same year, 1975] and set a series of sordid games in motion
that lead up to the death of the two young women. Following the deaths the three end up at the
home of Professor Guilio Stradi [Enrico Maria Salerno – Inspector Morosini in
Argento’s debut feature L’uccello dale piume di cristallo (The Bird with the
Crystal Plumage) 1970] and his wife Lisa [Laura D’Angelo] who soon realize who
they have encountered and take a violent revenge.

Night Train Murders could more or less be looked at as a
chamber piece, as it mostly takes place in one location, apart from the last
act. This startling thriller is simply fascinating from the opening titles with
that dodgy vocal song, but more on that later, to the final shot. Because this
is a well plotted, well-written and definitely surprising film. The movie is like a jigsaw puzzle where each
part interlocks with the next brining a larger image together. As I say, this
is a well-plotted, well-written gem, and now I’ll tell you why!

Already during the opening titles the threat of Blackie [Bucci] and
Curly [DeGrassi] is presented as they who run
around Munich, stealing, roughing people up, and even robbing a drunk Santa of
his few pennies before freeloading onto a train in the station. These guys,
despite being stereotypical villains for Italian genre film of the time, are definitely
trouble to count on for hell raising.

Six minutes in, the set up for a later twist is presented.
The overprotective parents are presented through a series of phone calls to the
maid who just put Laura [Berti] and Margaret [Miracle] on the train home, and Prof. Stradi [Salerno], who
obviously spends his days saving the lives of people – on his way home to his
wife, he stops in the corridor as he hears two colleagues talk about the
unfortunate accident victim who’s life can’t be saved. The honourable Prof. Stradi hands his briefcase to the nurse and tells them to call his wife and
tell her he’ll be late… a presentation of traits that later will collide, and
become of importance to the story.

The introduction of “the Lady on the Train” [Mérli] is
an interesting one. Only moments after she enters the full train carriage and
giving off an aura of a sophisticated lady – later enhanced when she discusses
politics with the famous politician she recognizes in the newspaper to be
sitting across from her in the carriage - she accidentally drops her purse as
the train shakes through an intersection. The only item that gives any form of
identification of her person is seen after the contents spill out, is a sordid
photograph of a group sex session. Alberto Galittini’s edits of the carriage
passengers looks at Mérli is magnificent, as it taints every scene between Mérli
and the co-passengers in that confined space from there on. It also indicates
that the posh lady is not quite what she seems behind that strict facade. Also it’s
no surprise that the scene is placed directly after the carriage of priests and
bishop is presented. Contrasting the passengers in this way is a metaphor of
heaven and hell, good and evil, and pretty soon this comes to ring disturbingly
true.

The girls are somewhat innocent kids, giddy to be away from
school, smoking way to many cigarettes and exploring their sexuality – “Try
leaning against the wall, you get a great feeling from all the vibration. Go
on, try it!” Margaret says to Laura who answers “Yeah you are right. You think
of everything.” This dialogue too is significant, as flirtation, forbidden
pleasures and sexual tension is an important part of the set up. The old saying curiosity killed the cat comes
to mind.

Margaret confides in Laura, her first and only sexual encounter,
they pleasure themselves by the vibration of the train. Margret has a brief but
daring flirt with the thugs in the train restroom, which leads to the Blackie forcing
his way in with “The Lady” when she goes to the restroom, and the sexual
tension between the two leads to them having intercourse… with, believe it or
not, cutaways of the train entering tunnels and rail tracks. Again this is all
presentation of character, Blackie is a ruthless predator who won’t take no for
an answer, and with the photograph and fact that she’ll shag strange blokes in
the train crapper, and we understand that “The Lady” is a lurid character.

After changing trains, the girls are confronted by Curly and
Blackie again, this time The Lady comforts them with the words that she won’t
let them harm them. Now if they had stayed on the other train, the one filled
with businessmen, politicians and the clergy, we may have believed her, but as
soon as she says this, Lado takes us on a quick tour of this new train’s
passenger. Prostitutes, Peeping Tom’s and Junkies… this is a completely
different ride, as mentioned above, polarization is the game, and here it’s
school bock example. In it’s finest form as the girls, held captive in the seedy
night train, by Curly, Blackie and The Lady try to make a run for it, when
Blackie beats Margaret… as she falls into the glass of the dark carriage door, editor
Gallitti rapidly inserts shots of the light happy Christmas dinner taking place
at their destination. Keep an eye open for Dalia di Lazzaro, from Andy Warhol’s
Flesh for Frankenstein 1973, and Dario Argento’sPhenomena 1985 during this
dinner party. Later Gallitti does the same when Margaret’s parents dance whilst
their daughter is being raped. As
mentioned earlier, contrasts play a big part in this movie, and here’s it’s
presented in it’s finest form.

Within the dark confined space - superbly light and captured
buy cinematographer Gábor Pogány who also shot Pink Floyd: Live at Pompei 1972
- tension builds, as Curly, Blackie and The Lady start off a series of sadistic
games, sexually themed torments and rapes, that not only had the BBFC’s refuse
to give the film a cinema certification in 1976, and landed the it on the list
of banned video nasties back in 1983, but also arrives at a shocking climax leaving
both the young girls dead. This hideous act propels us into the final act.

In accuracy with the original Isaksson source, the criminals
arrive at the home of the victim’s parents, and as an audience we are now
craving vengeance. It’s really not too complicated; once again we have an emotional
recognition. We can’t experience what the girls or their parents do, but we
want justice for the wring done to them.

This is where the subplot with the parent’s fading relationship
and the new start this Christmas has brought hem, along with the previous
establishment of their good character come into play. Blackie, Curly and The
Lady, get off the train instead of the girls, The Lady with injuries obtained
as Blackie beat her after the murders, is offered to come home to the ever
gallant Prof. Stradi to have her wounds taken care of as his wife and he await
the next train to arrive. Here the traits that where established early on come
back into play, Stradi’s lack of to refuse tending to patients end up with him
taking the trio of strangers home.

Then a streak of genius by the scriptwriters... a scene that
earlier seemed to be random, falls into the jigsaw, making the fuller picture
come into focus for the Stradi’s. During the opening of the movie we saw a scene
where the maid who sends Lisa and Margaret to the train station on their trip
home, calls Lisa, Laura’s mother, and warns her of the terrible turquoise neck
scarf Lisa has bought for her father as a Christmas present. Curly steals this
necktie as they toss the girls bodies and belongings off the train, and Mrs.
Stradi quickly becomes suspicious of the strangers in her house. The frequent
newsflashes on the radio finally reveal the identity of the two dead women
found mutilated by the side of the railroad tracks, and Dr. finally snaps. To
hell with moral, and common sense, emotions get the upper hand and he takes his
vengeance on the thugs. The journey is complete, from respected, caring, kind-hearted
man of society to cold-hearted avenger, outside the law. Just as in the Ulla
Isaksson script, the question of how far would you go, what would you do, could
you kill if you had the chance are posed. Harrowing questions that make the
Bergman movie such a classic and poignant themes that ring true through the
most of the imitations that came in it’s wake.

OK, so a few words on the soundtrack, because despite having
something of a crap start with Demis Roussos garbing his way through “A Flower
is All you need” – originally the theme song to a romantic themed animated film
Il giro del mondo degli innamorati di peynet (Around the world of Love) from
1974 – Night Train Murders has a rather interesting soundtrack. Diegetic audio
is of importance, as the sound of the train mainly plays as the movies
soundtrack together with Morricone’s minimalistic score. But also non-diegetic audio
is used to create effect. At times entire scenes off the train, inside the
mansion of the Stradi’s are acted out without the correct audio. Instead we
only hear the sound of the train rushing forth towards its destination. It keeps a tension whilst showing us the contrasts,
which I talked about earlier.

Harmonica is an important part of this soundtrack, as Curly frequently
plays one. It also becomes an important signifier that the “Crazy Boys” also
change trains when Lisa and Margaret do so at a border check earlier on.
Certain that they alone in the new coach they have snuck into, they share a
Spartan Christmas dinner of sandwiches and pop – kids once again – when they
suddenly hear the warble of Curly’s harmonica. It’s a disturbing moment, as
they react with honest fear… the crazy boys are there.

Night Train Murders still holds up, it’s a tight, tense and
fairly sleazy piece that definitely is worth enjoying if you still haven’t seen
it. A enthralling ride that takes some dark turns, and forces the audience to
drop their morale and find their primitive being confined deep inside. Now available in it's uncut glory, with a new superior image, remastered in 1.85:1 and presented with crisp DolbyDigital 2.0 Mono from Shameless Screen Entertainment.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

A Norwegian research team has found something up in the ice
of Antarctic. Young palaeontologist Ramona Flowers… no wait, Kate Lloyd [Mary
Elizabeth Winstead] is given the opportunity of her lifetime, to tag along and
perhaps discover something that will change mankind for the rest of time. After
revealing the spacecraft that supposedly crashed into the glacier several
hundred thousand years ago, they find a creature trapped in the ice. It becomes
Kate’s task to excavate the being, but shortly after the block of ice
captivating the monster is placed in the Norwegian camp, it breaks free and now
the people at the research centre are it’s prey… but you know that don’t you.
Because if you got this far, then I know that you are a fan of the original
just as much as I am.

Well, why is the question. Why does Hollywood insist on remaking
classics? There’ must be enough fresh idea’s out there. There must be enough
budding screenwriting talent out there that isn’t getting the shots they
deserve. There must be other areas one can dig into other that the movies that
once upon a time defined the horror genre. Now I’m not going to go on a rant
about remakes here, because I actually do like some of them. Although they
still look like crap compared to the originals, and perhaps it’s even worse
when the new version puts the original to shame. Never the less, this is The
Thing remake, or prequel as it turns out… oh, now that can’t really have been
missed by anyone who really wanted to see this movie… If you go into seeing
this film without knowledge of the original then I guess I’m older than you and
you still have some great shit to discover along the way.

I read somewhere that someone thought that the link to the
old film at the end was brilliant… well it is, but at the same time, there’s at
least ten different links to the original movie woven into the texture of the
movie throughout the entire film. SO perhaps you should have seen the original
before listening to people talking about this one outside the theatre!

Although I did enjoy the nihilism that came with this flick,
I loved going into it knowing that not a single person will come out alive.
There’s almost a perverted buzz going on as I sat back and waited to see how
they off this bunch this time around… and in all honesty I think they failed. Yeah, I love the darkness, but the monsters
are revealed way to early, and they’re way to visual. Half the magic of the original
is the paranoia. Something I never really feel creeping over me the same way
that it did in the Carpenter version. Heck, if you break it down, this one is
more or less a scene for scene remake of Carpenters version, sluggishly
following the beats and twists of that gem, so how come they missed that vital
beat I’ll never know. But then again, it get’s the job done and with knowledge
of the original, I feel that it’s still quite fun to watch. Although I have a
major problem with the ending! Not the link to the original, but the way they
just leave Kate out there in the cold with nothing but the threat of a possible
sequel looming… Yeah, I could just see them scripting some fucked up sequel
where Kate manages to make it to the US camp, hook up with MacReady [Kurt
Russell] and Childs [Keith David] and go yet another round with the beast. It’s
the only loose end (or one of the few) between the two movies and in all
honestly I feel that it’s just a screenwriter thing, it’s just their love for
their character that led them to leaving us with the sloppy ending. Because
it’s been done before in the original, but there was a threat, a possibility
that Macready or Childs may have been the alien… here’ there’s nothing. I would
still have been better to have gone to crack of dawn, Kate’s dead frozen body
in the snow buggy, then have the familiar Norwegian helicopter swoosh by on
it’s way to Lars and the camp to tie the sack together.

A big bonus for The Thing 2011, is that pretty boy Eric
Christian Olsen is of no use at all through out the movie and dies a terrible,
but deserving death. I was scared to hell that he’d be the “heroic”
counterpart to Mary Elizabeth Winsted, but instead we get Joel Egerton who
get’s the job done.

The Thing get’s 4/6 for effort, because like the alien, this
movie has mimicked the close to perfection. I’m pretty certain that you could
take a couple of splices from The Thing 2011 and insert them into The Thing 1982
and they’d play seamless. So hat’s off to set decorator Odetta Stoddard, art director Patrick Banister, and production
designer Sean Haworth. I can appreciate the love and respect for the original being
woven into this prequel, and I really dig the details, like the Norwegians
speaking Norwegian, the fine threads that connect this to the original – again,
it in a lot smarter way than the ending which coincidentally lifts two shots
out of the original to make them flow together even better.

But I hate when remakes posing as prequels have much more
advanced monsters! Where the monster in the original – and let’s not fuck
around here, the monster in Carpenter’s original is the star, Russell plays
second fiddle to that imaginative beast that Rob Bottin created – was a
imaginative weird thing that I’d never seen before. It freaked me the fuck out,
and the monster here, although impressive as it is combining old school prosthetics,
green screen and CGI, the error in my opinion is that they never really keep it
the fuck off screen… instead it’s more of a showcase for showing off cool
effects, yeah they are cool, but the more you show of the monster, the more it
feels as if I’m playing a videogame! That’s exactly where The Thing fails in my
book, keep the monster in the dark and build towards a really freaky reveal
that I will take with me after the film is over… something that jiggles my
imagination with the necessary what the hell was that questions, not a Oh, so
that’s what it looks like… Nightmares
are made of the things lurking in the dark, not the pathetically lame computer
generated monsters… Now I know I’ve been harassing CGI a lot lately, but do it
right and it looks awesome, and that I’m fine with, but if I can see that it
looks crap, why don’t the studios?

Monday, April 16, 2012

Lager lout Peter [Ittenbach himself] is forced to stay at
home and baby sit his little sister [Annette Arbeter] instead of roaming the
streets smoking dope and getting in gang fights. But in a moment of self-destructive
behaviour intent on “punishing” his parents, Peter shoots up some drugs and
watches as the moon starts to burn. Then he stumbles into his sister’s room
where he starts to tell her two bedtime stories… bedtime stories that focus on
death, mutilation, a serial killer, a psychopathic priest and the bowels of
Hell!

Movies shot on video in the early nineties have a certain
look to them that reminds me of the movies my mates and I where making in the
early nineties. Plot was always secondary to the effects. It was all about the
effects, the violence, and the cheap gory special effects the entire production
circled around. Well, that’s exactly what Olaf Ittenbach’s early movies are all
about. Shallow stories primarily designed to showcase his moments of gore and
splatter. The Burning Moon has some delightfully classic old school effects, body
parts chopped off, dismemberments, headshots, throat slits and human torment effects which still today
are impressive. Fuck you CGI, you can never mimic reality as well as enthusiasm,
latex and fake blood.

Homemade effects are fun. Naïve and enthusiastic and way to
exaggerated, watching low budget flicks with cgi’ed blood and splatter isn’t the
same thing. Ittenbach was at an early stage in his career here, but it’s
already very clear where he’s going to go with his fantastic effects. These
early movies are merely appetizers for the gore fests to come, and for each
film his skills improved. That not saying that these effects don’t get the job
done, the last ten minutes are one goddamned insane gorefest that pus a lot of
others to shame, and Ittenbach’s past as a dental technician comes in handy
when one devastating scene in graphic detail shows a drill splintering it’s way
through teeth, sending pieces flying in all over the place.

Anthology films are coming into craze again, what with Little Deaths, The ABC’s of Death, The Profane Exhibition and on and on and on… So making your own way back in 92 is a pretty ballsy thing to do in my book. Especially as it’s your second real movie you ever made! Both films have childhood traumas as origin stories to both killers’ rampages. Which is interesting as I find a lot of German filmmakers look to the past scars for inspiration, despite genre they are working in. It’ kind of hangs to together with the melancholic angst of early Wim Wenders, Werner Herzog, Rainer Werner Fassbinder. History comes back to haunt you.

There’s a fun moment when a victim to be is watching TV and Ittenbach’s
previous, and first film Black Past 1989 is on the television. The victim to be, switches channel and says that nothing but shit on the tube. Julia [Beate Neumeyer] hides from
her psychopath boyfriend behind a bathroom door, which Chris [Helmut Neumeyer] blatantly points
out to her is a glass door. Another scene shows a cutaway of a blood splat over
a leather-studded codpiece. In the movies
wraparound that odd German humour and dark nihilism I’ve earlier claimed to be
a trait, radiates from Ittenbach’sThe Burning Moon. Check out the Necronos: Tower of Doom piece for more on those traits.

I’m giving The Burning Moon a 4 out of 6 because I was in
the mood for some old-school gore, and Olaf Ittenbach’s movie delivered it. He
also managed to work a Jesus zombie in there too, and seen as I love depictions
of hell, the vivid depictions that Ittenbach pus on screen in the last ten
minutes are outlandish, and grotesquely intimidating in such a way that they
would have made Lucio Fulci proud.